


The Best Of Wives. The Best Of Women

by KayDiggsWriting



Series: The Sins Of A Sacrifice [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Death, F/M, First Kiss, Freeform, Hamgelica, Hamilton - Freeform, Hamliza, I love Hamgelica so much, Last words, Letters, Love, Love Triangles, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OBC - Freeform, Really nothing like the song, Sad, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, but sorta, duel, still bad at tags, whats wrong with me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayDiggsWriting/pseuds/KayDiggsWriting
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is set to duel Aaron Burr at dawn. Not that he actually expects the fickle man to shoot him.But just in case, he says his goodbyes.





	The Best Of Wives. The Best Of Women

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read the other works to understand this one. But you still should.
> 
> This isn't my best writing but I tried and I Hope you enjoyed. If you haven't noticed my OTP is Alexander/Anglelica so... lots of that.
> 
> Advanced apologies for spelling and grammar errors.

Aaron Burr wasn't going to kill him. Aaron Burr couldn't manage to shoot a target five feet from his face. Their days fighting side by side during the war was proof of that. This was all a stunt of power. Some alpha male instinct inside of the other man that convinced him he should challenge Alexander to a duel because he didn't endorse him.

Of course _maybe_ there was more to it than that. Alexander was known to speak his mind about Aaron Burr. Especially at crowded dinner parties after a little too much of the devil's whiskey. He could recall a time or two where he'd said some things he _maybe_ shouldn't have. But all in good fun! Like how Burr was indecisive enough to wear mismatched shoes to work because he couldn't decide between brown or black. Or how Burr wouldn't make a good president because he'd just agree with everyone about everything. Or how Burr was an immoral, dangerous disgrace and an embarrassment to the country he'd barely took part in helping to create. See, all good fun.

So the first letter came as no surprise. In fact, Alexander expected it. And it was written just as he'd predicted it to be. With a restrained, fence straddling, anger. Not so much _demanding_ as it was _asking_ Hamilton to admit what he'd said. So Hamilton -in normal Hamilton fashion- decided to be a smart ass. An honest one. Burr's letter was even more vague than the man himself was. Childish remarks of _I know what you said_ and _Why did you find it appropriate_ and _You should apologize for the disrespect_. Never directly pin-pointing what Alexander said or who Alexander said it to or even when Alexander said it. So he told him in so many words,

 ** _Mr. Burr sir,  
You must forgive me for my lack of the apology you requested. But I do need to know exactly what I am to apologize for. You must be more specific, my good sir. As I've said many a thing that could be considered impolite to your character. Audaciously disrespectful even. And on many admitted occasions. If you cannot recall the direct insult for which you are bothered, please chose one from this itemized list of thirty years worth of disagreements_**.

Now the challenge of a duel, that _did_ surprise him. He knew Aaron would write to him. He knew Aaron would be upset. Aaron Burr was always upset at what Alexander said or did. It was jealousy; plain and simple. He didn't know Burr would have the gonads to request a duel in his honor. He was taken aback by the suggestion. And admittedly, a little proud that the man -after almost thirty years- had learned to speak up for something he believed in. Even if that something was only himself.

But Burr couldn't shoot him. Burr wouldn't shoot him. This was all some scare tactic the man had come up with. A desperate attempt to get some respect around the big city. Alexander wasn't the least bit worried. They would meet, take position, draw guns and waste fire. As gentlemen. As old friends. And then they would return home maybe never to speak again.

The letters Alexander were writing at his desk, were all a precaution. It was what was expected of a man on his way to a duel. An unspoken rule. _Write to your loved ones as if it were your last chance to say goodbye_. And so he did. He wrote to his children. Telling them of how much he loved and admired them all individually. He wrote to his wife. Explaining how deeply he cared for her. How despite their previous problems, he was happy to have her at his side. How he loved and respected her as so much more than just a wife. How he couldn't wait to see her again, if only on the other side of life. He wrote to the people of the town. An open letter of gratitude for America. Thanking them letting him make a difference. He wrote of his plans to waste his shot. To not want to murder a man for no just cause. Detailing that he expected Burr to do the same. And that on the off chance that he did not, well, that would show the people of the town what kind of man Aaron Burr _truly_ was.

He started his letter to Angelica. Only able to script her name at the top before pausing. What could he possibly say to her on this page? How could he fit decades of unrequited emotion on it with the limited time he had left to write? Dawn would strike in a few hours. His note to Angelica would take years to perfect. Though he knew he would see her again, he wanted the letter to reflect his deepest feelings. In a way that would effect her even if he wasn't to die today. The task seemed impossible.

"Alexander?" With the added husk of sleep, his wife's voice was still a dream.

Alexander stacked his already written notes. Hiding them from her potential view. He turned away from his desk in time to see her emerging from the dark hall. Her night gown flowing gracefully around the curves of her frame. Her hair flowing smoothly down her shoulders. Her delicate hands rubbing the dreariness from her eyes. She approached him. Lazily rubbing a hand through his already tousled hair.

"Hello, my love." He turned into her touch.

"Alexander." His name was said more clearly this time. She was more aware. Awake. "Why are you at your desk during the witching hour? Come back to sleep."

"I have," He looked at the goodbyes on his desk. Guilt steaming from the knowledge that he was about to lie to her. She didn't deserve that. But more so, she didn't deserve to worry about a duel that would end in no casualties. So he continued. "An early meeting out of town." In New Jersey to be precise.

That caused a frown. She pulled her hand away. This time to cover a yawn. "It's still dark out."

"I know." Another glance at the letters. "I just need to write a few more things down."

The frown was gone. Suspicion being replaced with a fond smile. "Why do always you write like you're running out of time?"

"Shh." Alexander chided gently. Not wanting to show the way her words scared him. _Running out of time_. What if he was running out of time? What if Burr actually did shoot him? No. He was being paranoid. He stood up then. Needing to step away from his own words to clear his irrational fear of oncoming death.

Elizabeth mistook his reason for standing. Assuming it was to bring the two of them closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He welcomed the touch. "Come back to bed. And that would be enough."

Alexander shook his head. His fingers moving to flip Eliza's hair behind her ear. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone-"

"Come back to sleep." Her arms tightened around him. Her high voice holding a warning he didn't understand. She looked... afraid? As if she knew something bad was to happen. "Please." Dark, pleading eyes met his own.

"I can't. The meeting is at dawn and I have but a few hours to finish years of work."

"Fine." She dropped her hold. Stepping back like a scorned child being told no. "Well, _I'm_ going back to sleep."

Eliza turned on her heels. Ready to storm off in a dramatic stomp. But Alexander grabbed her wrist to stop her. Not wanting their last meeting before this pointless duel to end negatively. Elizabeth allowed herself to be spun around. Alexander beamed down at her. His wife tried to hide her amusement. But the stone face only lasted a second before she broke into her own smile. He lowered his head to press his smile against hers.

"The best of wives." Another kiss. "And the best of women." And another.

That seemed to be good enough for her. For them. With a final, Lingering look over her shoulder, Eliza disappeared into the darkness again. Her distant footsteps echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

Alexander stood as he was for an unmeasurable amount of time. Trying to decide if he should finish with his letter to Angelica or go back to bed as Eliza suggested. On the one hand, he still had at least two hours until dawn. And he hadn't a wink of sleep in the last day. Too busy. Too anxious to rest. It might not be a smart idea to approach dueling grounds fatigued. On the other hand, he was positive that no actual duel would take place. Neither of them would fire at each other. He didn't need to be perfectly rested to put an end to this ridiculous affair with Aaron Burr. He could just finish the letter. Though, he still hadn't the faintest clue how to start it.

Before his mind could catch up to the decisions of his body, Alexander found himself exiting his study. Instead of heading straight to his bedroom, he trailed down the steps. Finally realizing where he was going. His mind able to rationalize his body's movements. He'd come to terms with the destination just as his hand raised to gently rap his knuckles against the bedroom door. He waited a beat for the response he knew wasn't to come. The person on the other side was surely asleep.

Alexander pushed the door open. It's hinges creaking in protest. There was a single candle lit by the bedside. Flickering on its last minutes of light. Angelica must have forgotten to put it out. It was a bad habit he learned she had after only a few night of her staying in their home. He wondered if she did the same thing at her own home only an hour away.

Yes, John Church gave in and followed his wife back to the states. Angelica and her husband lived just on the edge of town now. Frequently, she'd spend days at a time at the Hamilton residence. 

Luckily today was one of those days. Alexander spent a few moments just watching his sister-in-law sleep. Her eyes shut. Her expression beautifully relaxed. Her full lips separated just enough to let air between them. Her dark hair tumbling past the skin of her face. Hiding her features in natural shadows. It was impossibly alluring. Alexander felt himself becoming upset that the image couldn't last forever. One of the greats should paint it. Though, a painting might not do her justice.

"Angelica." Her name left his lips like a song. One he'd never tire of singing. The woman stirred but didn't appear to wake. "Angelica." Louder. Less gentle.

Her eyes opened at once. Panic flooding her vision. She searched the dimly lit room for an explanation. Visibly relaxing when her gaze landed on Alexander standing near the end of the bed.

"Alexander?" Angelica's fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Similar to how Elizabeth had done. "Is this a dream?"

He smiled softly. She still dreamed about him. Good. It wouldn't be fair if she didn't. "No."

"Are you absolutely positive?"

"I am." He nodded once. Holding his arm out towards her. His smile shifting into a playful smirk. "Pinch me to find out."

"I ought to." She huffed. Shifting into a sitting position. "Why would you wake me at this hour?" She looked out the window into pitch darkness. "Dawn hasn't even broke."

"I needed to speak to you."

"Clearly." Her palm tapped the space on the blanket beside her. "Come. Talk. Did you have a nightmare?"

Well now he felt like a child. Still, he took the space that was offered to him. Sitting to face her directly. "No. I'm about to leave for New Jersey and I wanted to speak to you before I did."

"New Jersey? At this hour? Why would you be heading to-" Her eyes widened in understanding. And then even more so in shock. Her mouth snapped shut. Resting in a hard, disapproving line. And then slowly, _hesitantly_ , "Alexander, why are you going to New Jersey at this hour?" She knew. He could tell from the tremor in her voice that she knew. But for some reason she needed him to say it. And for some reason he understood that need.

"I have a scheduled duel with Aaron Burr."

Angelica wasn't like Eliza. He didn't need to sugar coat things with her. Alexander could be honest with his older sister. She could take it. 

" _Oh, Alexander_."

"But I do not plan to shoot him. As I do not plan for him to shoot me. It will be a death-less duel and the matter will be over."

"No." Angelica flipped the blankets away from her legs. Freeing herself to stand up. "You _must_ call it off."

"I can not." Alexander followed her actions. Slipping from the bed. Matching her pace. "It is a matter of honor, Angelica."

"Then if you _must_ do this." They met at the foot of the bed. Face to face. Angelica paused her sentence to stare into the taller's eyes. Reaching up to hold his face between her hands. "For the love of God, do _not_ waste your shot! Did Philip's death teach you _nothing_?"

"This is Burr we're talking about." He laughed but it was a strained sound. He knew Angelica noticed. She always noticed. Yet she remained silent. Only the worry deep in her dark eyes indicated how she felt. Alexander wrapped his hands around her fingers, withdrawing them from his cheeks. "The man won't shoot me."

"But what if he _does_ shoot you?"

"Then he shoots me I suppose." His face hardened involuntarily. The continuation of this conversation was sure to lead into an argument. Arguing with Angelica always left him feeling wounded. So he toughened himself in preparation for the oncoming verbal blows.

"Please don't do this." He expected Angelica to mimic his attitude. Her expression stayed imploring. "Think about Philip. Think of Eliza. Think of the children." Alexander shook his head. Shaking away the thoughts she tried to force on him. "Think about _me_ then, Alexander." And when her hands cradled his, intertwining their fingers, he couldn't think of anyone or anything else. He relaxed the tensity in his features. A warmth he only ever felt with Angelica flowed through his veins. "Stay with me, Alexander. Just stay."

He let himself be guided back to the top of the bed. Didn't put up a fight when she pushed against his shoulders to lay him down. Relished in the feeling of her wrapping herself around him. It was the first time they'd shared a bed. The only time both of their heads rested on a lone pillow. Noses touching. Limbs tangled.

Alexander couldn't be sure which of them moved first. Not that it mattered too greatly. All that mattered was that one of them moved and the other didn't hesitate to retaliate. A meshing of mouths that couldn't quite be considered sweet. The first few seconds of it were anything but actually. Biting lips and gnashing teeth. Tongues entering foreign mouths in a fight for dominance. So unlike the kisses of his wife. Eliza always allowed Alexander to take control. Angelica's lips demanded equality. Finally, Alexander allowed it. Relaxing into the kiss just enough to satisfy his soul's keeper. His heart hammered. His head raced. His fingers shook as they tangled themselves into her hair. His body begged for the air it was being denied. The experience was romantically cliche.

It _hurt_ that it felt so good. Especially considering that this was only their first kiss. They were as compatible physically as they were mentally. Imagine the spark of the second kiss. Or the third. Or even the _hundredth_. All kisses they could never experience. Because they could never be together in this way again. Their lives had been decided. And no matter how hard Alexander wished for it, Angelica wasn't his. Never could be his. Was only ever his for a blink in time. 

Angelica pulled away and the separating sound was loud. _Painful_. Yet his body rejoiced in it. Thanking her by taking in large breaths. Tears sparked the corner of his eyes. Mirroring the moisture trailing down her porcelain skin.

"I have to go." Spoken so low it was almost inaudible.

She closed her eyes. Nodding slowly. As if she expected as much. And she probably did. Because she knew Alexander. "But know this is the third instance in which my heart is breaking because of you."

"I love you, Angelica Schuyler." He purposely used her given surname. Because that was the name she held when he made that discovery. Because she would never _truly_ belong to Church. Not when she'd admitted that Alexander held both her heart and soul.

"Alexander." It was whispered too harshly to be considered enduring. His name was a pain on her lips. As he was a pain in her life. "I love you. You know I have no choice in the matter."

Those weren't the last of her words. But that was the last thing Alexander allowed himself to hear. Nothing else needed to be heard. Nothing else mattered. They knew of their love for each other. They spoke around it. They wrote of it. But never had they so openly admitted it in each other's presence. It overwhelmed him, to say the least. Too much emotion poured in his body. Filling him to the brink like a glass. It was no surprise when it leaked over in the form of tears.

"Angelica, I love you _so much_." Maybe saying it again, repeating it as a chant, like the repetitive chorus to a song, would relieve some of the tension. "I love you."

"Then please don't go. If you love me, Alexander, please don't. Eliza can't take another heart break. _Please."_

"I do love you." But he couldn't. He wouldn't. "Wait for me in the den. I want yours to be the first face I see when I arrive home."

She didn't challenge his actions again as he left her bed. Adjusting the suit he'd worn since yesterday. Angelica huddled deeper into her pillow. Pulling her blankets to her chin in a vain attempt at comforting herself.

"Why does this feel like goodbye?"

The left side of his mouth lifted in weary amusement. "It's not."

  
And it wasn't. _Not really_. Goodbye didn't come until eighteen hours later. When both Angelica and Elizabeth were laying at his side. Watching him bleed out from the hole of Aaron Burr's bullet. A bullet he hadn't expected to strike him from the gun of a man he considered his first friend. His last enemy. He spoke feverishly to those in the room. With the same rapid, spitfire he had to the men who'd rowed him back across the Hudson into the doctor's care. His words on the line of pointlessness.

_This was all a misunderstanding._

_He didn't intend to kill Burr._

_He didn't expect Burr to shoot him._

_He held no ill will towards anyone._

_Be careful of the loaded guns._

_He still had so much to do._

There were so many more words left for him to write.

So little strength... energy... _time_ left for him to do so.

Dear God, he was running out of time! 

With each dreaded second, holding his eyes open became more of a challenge. Breathing became more painful than necessary. The hands squeezing his own were the only two things keeping his body grounded. Keeping him from drifting into a permanent unconsciousness.

"Oh, Alexander, _do_ stop talking."

He wished he could laugh at the strained desperation in his sister's voice. He wished he could do _anything_ besides lay in this damned bed and tip toe to his death. It was nerve wrecking.  Sitting on the cliff of the other side, knowing that at any moment he could fall over. He wondered if Philip felt this same fear. He wondered if he'd be able to ask his boy once he finally let go.

"Save your strength to stay alive." His wife's tone was gentle.

"Eliza-"

" _Shh_."

And then he confessed. "I love you, Betsy." Because he knew it was his last chance to do so.

" _Shh_." She repeated. Clutching his hand firmer. "I know. I love you more. _So much more_." 

The grasp on his other hand loosened. Drawing his attention to the other side of the bed. His neck strained to get a view of Angelica's face. Even in his last moments, Alexander could read through his soulmate's masked expression. Hurt. Jealousy. Acceptance. Was there a name for all three as one? Despite his fluency in multiple languages, he couldn't think of one.

" _Angelica_." Would it be appropriate to speak as freely as he wanted in front of his wife now? To tell Angelica how he adored her all the same? If only to wipe any trace of that look from her eyes? He knew the answer before the question was completed in his mind. _No_. He'd already had his final words with her. In private, as most of their connection was. As it should have been. His declarations of love and devotion needed to end with his wife and _only_ his wife. His favorite sister -his soul's keeper- would understand. Yes, Angelica would agree. Just as his body agreed when it selected that instant to silence him forever. With his last hope, with his last idea, he'd instead cherish she sweet hope of meeting them both in a better world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and Kudos are cool. But so is just you reading this trash is the first place.


End file.
